


The Tragic Tale of The Intergalactic Space Roach

by Maple_Maypole



Category: Stellar Firma (Podcast)
Genre: Humor, I was below my minimum word count for today and I panicked, Listen I, canon-typical consumption of things not meant to be eaten, canon-typical trexel, this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple_Maypole/pseuds/Maple_Maypole
Summary: This, David 7 thinks in a horrified stupor, isn't even the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	The Tragic Tale of The Intergalactic Space Roach

David's scream fills the chamber, bouncing off the claustrophobic walls like a tennis ball made out of pure terror and alarm. He scrambles backwards and away from the desk, his weak and underused limbs flailing with a lack of coordination so prominent and exaggerated that it almost looks rehearsed.

It isn't. He falls flat on his back and yells again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers the sound as appropriately blood-curdling, alarming, horrified, and all the other adjectives that color his life with way more frequency than he would like-- Whoever is listening to him, he thinks faintly, better have at _least_ jumped a little in their chair.

He doesn't have much more time to ruminate on this, however, as the thing that had prompted this display of skill is still very much sitting on top of his desk.

He had been drawing. He had checked the time and carefully collected his very limited supplies and he had been drawing. A lovingly rendered picture of two person-shaped blobs gazing over the oceans, with those awe-inspiring expanses of W shaped lines and the breathtaking squiggles that charitably represented a thing called "foam." There was a perfect, glowing contentment in their eyes as they held each other.

Said eyes more closely resembled two misshapen lentils than they did eyes, really, but David had never seen a lentil, and he sure as hell had never seen eyes with anything even resembling contentment in them. Fear-born adoration, yes. Disturbing infatuation, yes.

But _contentment?_

Honestly. Let a single person in Stellar Firma try and accuse his art of "inaccuracy."

He had scoffed softly to himself, and then immediately felt a twinge of terror spark in his gut. No warning or threat had come, thank Board, but just as his heart started to settle he saw something move. Right there on Bathin's perfect foot, a little black something with too many legs and a strange little body had scuttled into his field of vision.

And so David 7 dropped the pen, opened his mouth, and yelled.

In the present, David lays very, very still on the ground. He has his back against the wall, trying to press himself into the metal just to get a little more distance between himself and the thing on his desk. He holds his breath with eyes open wide and skin so pale it is almost translucent. His thoughts race, presenting worst-case-scenario after worst-case-scenario in unhelpfully jumbled lines.

 _WHAT IS THAT WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE THAT IS IT GOING TO KILL ME IS IT VENOMOUS IS IT GOING TO SPEAK IS IT GOING TO EAT ME IT LOOKS VERY SMALL COULD IT EVEN EAT ME I THINK IT COULD I THINK EVERYTHING COULD EAT ME WOULD I TASTE LIKE CLONE SLURRY OR LIKE PERSON_ **_WHAT IS THAT_** _IS IT EVEN A WHAT IS IT A W_

_...is it a who?_

_...Oh Board, is it a_ client?

David rises from where he is curled in a tight slow-motion, ready to bolt and perfectly aware that there is nowhere he could bolt to. He opens his mouth and, in a hoarse little voice he hopes with all his heart sounds professional, he says:

"Hello?"

(David 7 had never seen a cockroach before)

The possible-client does not move or react. It doesn't know to fear this strange, loud giant currently staring at it. It does not know anything other than hunger, triumph, and the safety of Stellar Firma's walls. In an uncharacteristic bout of adventurousness, it had decided that today was a good day to broaden its horizons, and what better place to start than this funny little titan's abode?

This unique space-roach, unaware of how much of a miracle its own existence is, examines the art with as much thought and consideration as it possibly could.

Doesn't look very edible, it sagely concludes. 

**Unauthorized Organic Contaminant Detected. Security: Alerted,** says a clear little voice from all around them.

David 7 can hear his own heartbeat speeding up to a dangerous degree.

"C… _Contaminant?",_ He squeaks. "IMOGEN, what-- IMOGEN, please, it-it could be a client! Do you know what… who… Do you know what and or who this is?"

**Unauthorized Organic Contaminant.**

A cheerful _ding!_

**Gross.**

"Alright, IMOGEN, no need to be hurtful--"

At that moment, two things happen: The bug decides it has had enough adventure for the day and starts lazily scuttling away, and the Stellar Firma Brand Sliding Doors™ open with their signature dreaded _swoosh._

David 7 screams, again.

"David! David, what is it! Why are you screaming, David? What is happening? I could hear your screaming through the door, David, you know, that is incredibly rude of you! to be so loud and a clone-- You mustn't be loud _and_ a clone, David!" The unrelenting voice of Trexel Geistman floods the chamber. "You can be loud, yes-- it asserts dominance and respect!-- and you can be a clone, I guess, if you hate yourself that much, but loud AND a clone? Ha! that's just asking for--"

He stops.

David stops.

The roach, oblivious to the beautiful miracle that its own continued existence poses, makes a horrible mistake, and stops.

"Oh, David", says Trexel, and if David 7 thought his previous scream was blood-curdling then the things held in those unfortunate three syllables are enough to make you _wish you never had blood in the first place._ "Making friends, are we?"

And, somewhere inside its little, admirable brain, the bug remembers.

There are some things you simply don't forget, even if you're a bizarrely intergalactic cockroach. Things that boggle your mind in such a way as to leave you changed, irreversibly rattled.

An encounter with Trexel Geistman (sweaty, loud, crawling through ventilation shafts and extending his terrible, desperate hand towards you) is one of them.

The roach doesn't know fear. Not the cheerfully-disguised fear that runs through everything and everyone in every nook and cranny of Stellar Firma Limited, not the naked fear sparking in screaming bolts inside of David 7's body, not the unknown fear coursing through those "secretly" subject to this gruesome scene through hidden cameras and microphones.

But in that moment, it knows _horror._

It tries to run away, will its little miraculous legs to move, but it's too late. And the whole world holds a disgusted breath as Trexel Geistman _chews._

"You know," he says, thoughtful, "I thought It'd taste more like chicken. I don't know why, the thought just felt right at the time."

The cheerful _ding!_ that resounds inside the little chamber seems a bit somber, somehow, but the voice that follows it is grinning wide in every syllable.

**Unauthorized Organic Contaminant Neutralized.** **Rest In Peace.**

**Author's Note:**

> My humble contribution to the uphill climb towards making Stellar Firma have a full page of fanfics!  
> I... I'm sorry.
> 
> catch me on Twitter and Tumblr as @mosstrades!


End file.
